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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30078621">The Vocational Practice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/good_fairytale/pseuds/good_fairytale'>good_fairytale</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Blue Mountains | Ered Luin, Diplomacy, Exams, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lindon, Magic, Non-Graphic Descriptions of Medical Procedures, Non-Graphic Violence, Poor Elrond, Prophetic Visions, Second Age, young Elrond</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:07:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30078621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/good_fairytale/pseuds/good_fairytale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>No one is born a revered loremaster and Lord. This story is about very young Elrond and his first diplomatic mission on The High King’s service.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Celebrimbor | Telperinquar &amp; Elrond Peredhel, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar &amp; Galadriel | Artanis, Elrond Peredhel &amp; Ereinion Gil-galad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Most characters, places and events in my stories belong to Professor Tolkien. I merely love writing about them and occasionally add something or someone.<br/>The war mеntioned in this chapter is The War of Wrath. The Professor never told us for sure when and how Elrond and Elros joined Gil-Galad’s court; in my headcanon, Maglor sent them to the King when they became more or less capable of taking care of themselves (around thirty years old, to my mind).<br/>I hope you will enjoy reading this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stars were shining above the harbor, sea was breathing slowly, sending sleepy waves over the sandy beaches of Harlindon. Most of the residents of Mithlond were out and about enjoying the summer night. Behind one of the brightly lit up arch windows of the High King’s castle a young dark-haired ellon was sitting at a tree-like designed bookstand. A sudden knock on the door made him startle. He tiredly rubbed his red-rimmed eyes and looked around the place. The room was a mass in the truest sense of the word: heaps of parchment scrolls on the floor, piles of thick heavy volumes on the chairs and windowsills, maps on the desk and on the wide bed.<br/>
‘Come in’ – he said to the visitor, and another dark-haired ellon wearing the blue livery of the High King’s messengers entered the room.<br/>
‘His Highness sent me to check on you and carry his word: stop tiring yourself out with study and have rest.’<br/>
‘Alright, tell the King I will do as he says.’<br/>
The messenger bowed his head and left. The ellon sighed deeply and turned the page. He came to himself in a couple of hours, when there was another knock on the door.<br/>
‘Come in’ – the ellon said helplessly. The same person entered the room, obviously trying to keep his countenance.<br/>
‘His Highness sent me to tell you to go to bed ere he comes here himself and knocks you out,’- he announced happily.<br/>
‘Very well. Tell the King I will devote my tomorrow’s failure to him.’<br/>
‘As you say,’ – the elf bowed his head and left.<br/>
The dark-haired ellon looked out of the window at the stars to find out that there was about a couple of hours left until dawn, then at the bed occupied with maps, and decided that just lying staring at the ceiling wasn’t worth the ordeal of putting the maps away. He turned back to the book.<br/>
‘Elrond!’ - the door opened with a flourish, and The High King of the Noldor in Exile Ereinion Gil-Galad entered the room. The ellon obediently rose to meet his faith with starry grey eyes full of immeasurable grief (full of immeasurable grief they were, but there was not even the slightest trace of repentance in them). ‘Peredhel!  What will it take to make you see the reason? You have been sitting in this room for weeks now! I wager you know all these books by heart!’ – he gestured around the room. ‘I have told you that you can enter the Diplomacy Service without the official trial! I have seen you in action, which is enough!’ – he glared at the half-elf ferociously.<br/>
‘My King,’- Elrond said meekly, - ‘You may have seen me in action, but not all the other members of your Diplomacy Service and Advisory Staff have. I understand the elders have good reasons to doubt me, for I have not been long at your service, and, given the circumstances of my arrival to your court, and my general background, I deem I should go through the official trial with other candidates in the morning. What is more, I have no intention to add fuel to the rumours that you favour me for reasons other than my talents.’<br/>
The King looked over his shoulder into the open door, then came closer and said in a quieter voice:<br/>
‘Who do you take after to be so insufferable?’<br/>
Elrond сoolly looked into his eyes with one brow raised and uttered:<br/>
‘After the best’.<br/>
***<br/>
The official trial for the candidates to enter the King’s service was an exciting event, though extremely stressful. It took place in the Great Council Hall in front of the King and the members of his Council and Diplomacy Service. The candidates had to answer questions on the history of Eldar, show knowledge of the history of diplomatic relations between the peoples of The Middle Earth, mastery in rhetoric and languages and solve practical problems. Six young elves, offsprings of  loremasters and diplomats, all wearing students’ grеy robes, were standing in the center of the arched hall, answering questions asked by elders in different languages.<br/>
To the King’s delight, his young charge showed excellent knowledge and skills, and soon even the most doubtful minds were satisfied. Ereinion listened to Peredhel’s thoughtful and thorough answers and thought back of the happy time spend with Elrond and Cirdan discussing history, political and diplomatic matters. Since he took Elrond and Elros in, he never ceased to wonder how different the twins were. While robust, impatient Elros took interest in leadership and battle, quiet and patient Elrond had passion for strategy and diplomacy. During the war, Elrond was at Ereinion’s side as a squire, yet soon the King found out that his young aid not only had a sharp mind, but also was able to read people like open books; so he was allowed to take part in the council and strategic meetings, attentively listening and making clever notes and suggestions. When the war was over, the King saw to giving Elrond further education.<br/>
Meanwhile, the trial went on. One of the members of the Council, an ancient silver-haired Teleri, was assailing Peredhel with inventive tiebreaker questions and did not calm down even after Elrond’s swift and elegant practical task solution. He rouse and uttered:<br/>
‘The task is solved in an acceptable way, young Elrond Peredhel. However, what would you do if the second party is still not convinced we have good intentions, and you have run out of all reasonable arguments?’<br/>
The King mentally ticked him to be sent to deal with dwarves. Forever.<br/>
Peredhel turned to him, placid-faced, and uttered the words that later were included into all elven textbooks on diplomacy (although Elrond himself never claimed the presumption of authorship):<br/>
‘If the second party is still not convinced we have good intentions, and I run out of all reasonable arguments, and my assistants fail to provide me with more, I will further explain the second party’s benefits using the understandable local idiomatic terms and expressions.’<br/>
Complementary murmur and good-natured chuckles swept across the Council Hall. Cirdan, sitting next to the King, leaned closer to him:<br/>
‘Did you teach him that, or are we beholding a benefit of Feanorian fostering?’<br/>
Ereinion hid a mischievous smile into his long fingers. The elf sitting next to the Teleri turned to him and laughed:<br/>
‘It looks like young Peredhel has had the upper hand. Come down, Calapilin, you are trying the King’s patience.’<br/>
The Teleri looked around and sat down, blushed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Aranya - My King (Quenya)<br/>Nauglamir - a legendary necklace made for Finrod by the dwarves of Ered Luin, later brought to Doriath by Hurin and decorated with Beren and Luthien's Silmaril.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hot summer sun was pouring light into open high arch windows of the King’s study. Gentle sea breeze was freely passing through the room, carrying gall’s cries and scents of the garden. Ereinion was standing with an open scroll of parchment, rapt in contemplation.<br/>
‘So, the dwarven refugees are returning to Ered Luin…’ – he uttered. ‘I will not oppose their desire to claim what has always belonged to them’, - said Gil-Galad to the councilors sitting in high chairs. ‘However, I wish to be sure our mines in The Blue Mountains will not be disturbed and they will respect the laws of good neighbourliness.’<br/>
He rolled up the scroll he was holding in his hands and passed it to Elrond, who was sitting at an ornate scribe’s desk by the window.<br/>
‘We shall send a party to meet them and to ensure a new treaty of friendship, neighbourliness and co-operation is concluded as well as a new contract of trade’, - he looked around the room.<br/>
‘My King’, - one of the councilors rose from his seat, - ‘Who do you have in mind to deal with the matter? Dwarves are a treacherous party’.<br/>
Ereinion turned to him: ‘I understand it should be someone who has experience of dealing with the dwarves of Nogrod and Belegost before they fell in destruction of Beleriand… - He gave a hint of smile to Elrond and addressed the silver-haired elf sitting next to the speaker: ‘Master Calapilin, I deem you own the necessary experience’. All heads turned to the Teleri. The ancient diplomat rose and courtly inclined his head: ‘I thank you for your trust, my King, yet you are laying a sophisticated task on me. Let me make an appeal for an assistant.’<br/>
‘Ask away’ – Ereinion nodded.<br/>
‘I am asking you humbly to send with me a shrewd person with a sharp eye for people, well-grounded in Dwarven language and lore.’<br/>
The room went silent. All looked at Elrond. Peredhel looked at the King. Calapilin prayed for the King to go off this idea. He did not wish to work in a tandem with this very person after the notorious affair during the recent trial. Since the infamous incident took place, each and every fellow diplomat or the King’s councilor deemed it their duty to come up to him and ask which local idiomatic expressions he was going to use on his next mission. However, the person in question was not blissfully happy with the prospective as well.<br/>
‘During my years under the custody of Lord Maglor, Lord Maedhros indeed taught me Khuzdul and dwarven lore. However, Aranya, would it be wise to choose me for such a high-stakes mission, the scion of the one slayed by the dwarves of Nogrod because of their desire for what they did not have the right to claim, and the ones who then in revenge killed many of them and among those their lord?’ – Elrond asked tentatively.<br/>
The councilors turned to each other, exchanging quiet words of support. Indeed, the tale of Elu Thingol’s death at the hands of dwarves who craved Nauglamir and the revenge brought down on them by Beren and his son Dior was still reverently sang by Eldar and had affected a lot of minds; Elrond, in light of the tragic family history, hated all sorts of bling.<br/>
‘You have proven to be a promising diplomat, young kinsman, and I trust you’, - said Ereinion, - ‘What is more, this gesture of ours shall demonstrate forgiveness and beginning of a new era in relations between our peoples. Needless to say, you need further practice. So be it. Master Calapilin and Elrond are going on this mission. Settled!’ – he added, glowing first at the Teleri, then at Peredhel. – ‘The meeting is over; I need to discuss the matters with you two’.<br/>
***<br/>
Traveling along the feet of The Blue Mountains was not easy even for elven horses. The landscape was bearing the evident traces of the cataclysm. At the end of the War of Wrath, what once was a whole mountain range was split into two parts by a powerful earthquake, and the waters of Belegaer flooded the giant crevasse, forming what was called the Gulf of Lun afterwards. The bumpy road was meandering among large pieces of rocks and impassible forests full of fallen or broken trees.<br/>
Elrond and Calapilin were riding side by side, keeping silence. The guards in front of them were carrying blue and silver banners of the High King; the Captain of Elrond’s personal Guard, a stern ancient Noldorin lady, was riding behind them, watchful as ever. Peredhel could sense Calapilin’s embarrassment and vexation about the situation he ended up in. Indeed, when the King was blessing them before the journey, it looked like he was sent as an aid to the young princeling, not vice versa. He did not feel safe around the sharp-tongued youth brought up by kinslayers, whoever his biological parents were. He also found it offensive that after the farewell speech, Ereinion kissed Elrond’s forehead and held his arms a second longer than it was necessary, telling him to look after himself and come back safe, while Calapilin was granted with a friendly brush on the shoulder and bid god-speed. The fact that they were travelling under the supervision of Capitan Anoriel, once of Maglor’s people, now fiercely loyal to Elrond, did not add to his comfort.<br/>
Elrond, though, kept himself to himself, well aware of the fact that his companion was feeling awkward around him and having no wish to aggravate his grudges.<br/>
The scouts returned from the survey and insisted on taking the higher mountain path, telling that the road they were travelling was blocked by a heap of rock and a fallen forest for miles ahead, while the higher path was shorter and in surprisingly better condition. Anoriel looked from her charge to the silver-haired Teleri.<br/>
‘Young sir, Master Calapilin, what would you say?’<br/>
Elrond considered the option. He had been travelling with a premonition, yet had not managed to interprit it. His foresight was a treacherous gift indeed, for he could sense or have visions of things that might happen, or might not happen as the result of present actions or inactions. It required a lot of effort to tell one from the other or separate it all from his current anxiety about the outcome of the mission.<br/>
‘I would rely on the scouts’ experience,’ – said Calapilin, - ‘I want to be done with it as soon as possible. What say you, young Peredhel?’<br/>
‘I agree, the shortcut would come in handy, though we should stay watchful’.<br/>
The Captain of the Guard nodded and lifted a gloved hand:<br/>
‘Lead the way!’<br/>
They had been travelling along the mountain road going along a steep slope and a deep snaggy gorge for several hours after the sundown, when the scout, who was leading the company, rose his hand in warning. Some little rocks rolled down the side of the mountain onto the path. The elves stopped and listened carefully. Everything went quiet. There were no other signs of a landslide coming. The scout turned to the group:<br/>
‘The path goes down behind the blocked section of the lower road about three miles ahead. We must speed up.’<br/>
He barely finished, when the stones started rolling again, and several arrows and darts flew past their heads.<br/>
‘Goblins!’ - The trailing guards shouted, and turned their horses to meet the ambushers.<br/>
The path was wide enough for three horses in a raw to pass safely, but fighting a battle was not beneficial.<br/>
‘Flee with Master Calapilin to the lower path!’ – the Captain of the guard shouted to Peredhel, who was about to release an arrow, - ‘We will sort this out!’<br/>
Before Elrond was able to argue, she hit his horse on the croup in off-you-go manner, and he had nothing else left to do, but to hold on. Calapilin followed, drawing his bow and getting ready to defend himself and the King’s young kinsman, when a stone flung with a slingshot hit his horse, and it reared up, dropping him on the ground.  Seeing another group of goblins running to intercept them, Elrond reined in his horse, slipped down and drew out two curved swords, covering the motionless Teleri. The sounds of the battle behind flew to his ears, telling him the guards were busy with the first group of attackers. He readied to meet the creatures and take as many lives as he could manage to. The goblins slowed down, and started giggling and hitting their weapons on shields, already celebrating the easy victory. Peredhel’s battle cry echoed in the mountains, and he ploughed into the crowd.<br/>
Two down. Two more. The creatures kept assaulting. Two more down. He ceased counting, absorbed into holding the attackers back and avoiding their hits. Another battle cry. Two more down. He dove to avoid a dangerous attack and his swords met a dwarven axe. Elrond’s momentum was too powerful to be stopped, he spinned to extinguish it and give himself a moment to take the situation in. A large sturdy dwarf smiled smugly at him and stepped back to give way to a tall and wide elf with the light of Valinor in his eyes.<br/>
‘Peace, fierce Peredhel!’ – thundered a very familiar voice, - ‘They are all down!’ – the elf smiled and sheaved his sword.<br/>
‘Hail, Telperinquar!’ – breathed Elrond.<br/>
‘Hail, little cousin!’ – Celebrimbor extended his hands and clenched forearms with Peredhel in a warriors’ greeting. That very moment the guards with Anoriel at head reached them. The smith’s guards lifted unconscious Calapilin and brought back the horses.<br/>
‘We cannot stay here,’ – announced Celebrimbor. – ‘Follow my company, we know a safe place to camp’.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elrond takes care for the injured, saves lives and wins hearts.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They camped out on a grassy riverbank. The night had passed; the sun was rising, sending first rays of light through the tendrils of fog. It was decided that diplomatic matters could wait until they all reach the small settlement of dwarven refugees in the north. While the two companies were making food and tending to their horses, Elrond was taking care of the wounded in a hastily pitched up large tent. Celebrimbor’s guards brought in semi-conscious Calapilin and laid him carefully down on a free blanket. Elrond gestured to them to put a rolled up cloak under his head and give him herbal brew to ease the pain.   Having bandaged the sutured wound he had been working on and let the patient go with kind words of reassurance, he moved to the Teleri.<br/>
‘What happened, young Peredhel?’ – he asked when Elrond kneeled beside him and took his wrist to check the pulse.<br/>
‘We were attacked by another group of goblins, your horse was hit and it bolted. We were lucky Lord Celebrimbor’s scouts spotted us and he and his companions came to our rescue’, - Elrond responded, studying his face and eyes closely. – ‘Fortunately for us, he was travelling with those exact dwarves we were to meet. Tell me, what is ailing you?’<br/>
‘I shall be alright, young one. No need to fret.’<br/>
‘I can see your right ankle is swollen and I can sense you are in pain. Let me set it for you…’<br/>
‘Do not …’<br/>
‘Be sensible, Master Calapilin!’- and Peredhel gave the elder That Very Look which used to make Maedhros himself stay put, once almost gave Maglor a heart attack, sometimes stirred up Ereinion’s envy and would in future earn him a reputation of а hard-to-deal-with grumpy dude, which he, most certainly, was not. Not used to such handling, Calapilin shrank back, letting Peredhel take the swollen ankle into his hands, probing gently.<br/>
‘It is a bit displaced. I will have to put it in place.’<br/>
The Teleri set his jaw. He was sure Elrond was not going to make it easy for him.<br/>
‘I will tell you when to brace yourself,’ – Elrond reassured, starting to prod around the joint. Calapilin closed his eyes and waited for the assault of piercing pain.<br/>
‘Master Calapilin, what is the last thing you remember before losing consciousness?’ – Peredhel asked conversationally.<br/>
‘I was trying to protect you, young one’.<br/>
‘Is seeing the light painful? Dizziness? Nausea?’<br/>
‘No… When are you going to do it?’<br/>
‘It is done, Master Calapilin,’- Elrond said kindly. – ‘I will put a bandage on your ankle, and later send someone here with another potion for pain relief. Try to rest, I will check on you in the afternoon’. Having finished with him, Elrond covered the flabbergasted Teleri with another blanket and turned to check on a badly wounded guard from Celebrimbor’s company. Seeing no signs of deterioration, he once again ordered both to rest and left the tent.<br/>
‘Nice lad. Good healer, and was fighting those wastes alone like someone of the legends when we came to assist. Is he your apprentice?’ – the warrior asked.<br/>
‘No. We work together,’ – the Teleri felt sick at the image of his charge’s narrow escape. He did not find the prospective of reporting to the King about Elrond’s perish enticing at all.<br/>
Having finished with the duties around the camp, Peredhel plopped down by the fire and gratefully accepted a bowl of  hot stew from Anoriel, when Celebrimbor came up to him and put a large hand on his shoulder.<br/>
‘Little cousin, it looks like our companions will need your help as a healer, too. One of Narvi’s kin is unwell, his companions say the usual remedies do not have any effect.’<br/>
Peredhel’s heart sank. No rest for the wicked.<br/>
‘I have never tended a dwarf. What is more, they have their own ways of healing and will most probably reject me.’<br/>
Celebrimbor looked to the direction of the dwarves’ part of the camp, which was starting to fill with worried murmurs and clear signs of perplexity in the way its occupants were moving around.<br/>
‘I promised Narvi to bring you. At least listen to what they say’.<br/>
Elrond sighed and gave the bowl back to Anoriel. She glared, but said nothing.<br/>
When Elrond and Celebrimbor joined the dwarves’ company, Narvi pushed his companion towards them:<br/>
‘Come on, brother. Spill out the truth.’<br/>
‘He is not the one they need, he …’ – the dwarf started in Kuzdhul.<br/>
‘You will lose them both! Celebrimbor assured me this Elrond is one of their best healers, and I believe him’.<br/>
The dwarf looked down, than at Elrond.<br/>
‘Alright, lad.’ – he looked Peredhel over. ‘My wife, Nis, is travelling with us… and she is…’ – he rubbed his forehead – ‘she has been expecting. She wanted to meet her kin in the Blue Mountains and assured me that the child was not due earlier than in a couple of months, and went on the journey with us. Now her maids say, she is in labour, and the child is not coming out.’<br/>
Elrond and Celebrimbor looked at each other in dismay. Peredhel kept silence for an extended moment, a cavalry of thoughts one uglier than the other swept through his exhausted mind. He knew what to do in theory, although, first: he was not THAT kind of healer; second: he had tended many elves and men with grave injuries on battlefields and had seen awful wounds and burns, but never ever had to deal with women in labour, not to say dwarven women. He looked the dwarf in the eye.<br/>
‘I will see what I can do.’<br/>
Elrond had to bow down to enter the tent meant for creatures no taller than five feet, so his coming in was a bit slurred. He was met by three pairs of warried and embarrassed eyes. The dwarves inside the tent didn’t look much different from the dwarves outside, so he gave up analyzing and just sat down cross-legged at the makeshift bed side, sighting his patient. The person on the bad looked at him as if he was an intimidating creature of beyond, so he tried to sound as kind as he could manage speaking Kuzdhul:<br/>
‘My name is Elrond, I am a healer. I will help you through your ordeal.’<br/>
The dwarf on the bed appraised him, then suddenly winced and uttered a very improper word. Elrond didn’t move an ear. He had always been sure that there were no obscene words for a linguist as there were no vulgar parts of anatomy for a healer. The saying, dropped on various occasions, lived into millennia of this world and eventually was adopted by some human loremaster.<br/>
‘How regular are the contractions?’ – he asked into the space.<br/>
‘Every five minutes’ – said one of the aids. ‘And they started long ago.’<br/>
Elrond put his hands on the swollen stomach and concentrated on the baby. The child was struggling for life, his throat entwined by the naval cord. The healer’s instincts sprang in, chasing away all other thoughts and sensations. He pushed away the agony and panic, touched the tiny soul and started the enchantment, coaxing the little one to turn and move the right way. He didn’t hear the mother’s screams, he didn’t see the aids holding her still. All he was focused on was the intention to save this life.<br/>
‘Come, little one, - he chanted – ‘Come! This way! Life is awaiting for you!’<br/>
Falling back into the reality was shattering. He was welcomed with ear-piercing cry of the newly-born baby, his mothers’ sobs and the aids’ congratulations to her and the words of gratitude to him. He exhaled, made an effort to stop the tent from spinning, and gave a stupid big smile to the new mother.<br/>
The scene that welcomed him outside the tent was more than impressing. On the right, there was a gathering of disheveled dwarves, who looked at him as you would at a saint. On the left, there was a gathering of absolutely serene elves with Celebrimbor and Anoriel at the head. He gingerly turned to the new father with his hand over the heart.<br/>
‘Your wife has granted you with a healthy son. May he have both feet firmly on the ground and may his hands be skillful at craft and with axe’.<br/>
The dwarves surrounded him with cheers and thankful words, Celebrimbor and Anoriel strode to his side, silent, stern and composed. The shieldmaiden wrapped a cloak around his shoulders; the Lord pushed a flask with strong cordial into his hands. Celebrimbor shooed the happy crowd out of the way, and together with Anoriel led the exhausted Peredhel away. The aids went out and followed him with puppy eyes and ‘poor darling’ expressions on their faces.<br/>
The rest of the journey Elrond spent close to the wagon where Nis and her baby were travelling, while Celebrimbor was enduring the worst interrogation ever. The two dwarven maidens were riding their ponies at the side of his big dark stallion in turns (one always had to look after the new mother), unceasingly throwing questions his way:<br/>
‘What is his name again? El… what?’<br/>
‘How old is he?’<br/>
‘Does he serve your king?’<br/>
‘Is it true you are related?’<br/>
‘Is it true that he is a prince?’<br/>
‘Who are his parents?’<br/>
‘Does he have a family?’<br/>
‘Is he betrothed?’<br/>
‘Is he…?’<br/>
‘Does he…?’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Professor didn't leave us direct descriptions of dwarven women's looks, so everything you've read here is just my imagination.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The council is held, the purposes are revealed.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The road north ran through soul-sapping scenes of destruction: eradicated forests and caved in or slumped mountains. It would take centuries for the land to recover from yet another reshaping of Arda. However, birds and little animals had been returning to these places; larks’ songs lightened hearts, thick grass with sparkles of wild summer flowers lit up smiles.<br/>
The company’s speed was reduced by the need to travel with ponies and wagon, scout out the precarious pathway and give rest and care to the injured. Although the dwarves preferred to keep clear of the elves, Celebrimbor and Elrond were welcomed as friends. After Peredhel had seen Nis through her ordeal, Vidur, her husband and the leader of the party, announced that he was happy to call him his and his kin’s friend, which Elrond graciously accepted to Nis’ handmaidens’ utter rapture and Anoriel’s greatest dread. If asked afterwards whether he preferred one fretting Noldorin shieldmaiden or two fretting dwarven ladies, Elrond would have eagerly voted for the first option, since for all Captain’s protectiveness, never had she attempted to stealthily feed him an extra portion of stew (this lad is too skinny for his height), sneakily put sleeping herbs into his tea (the poor thing didn’t sleep a wink last night), or pointedly bring him a lamp when he was reading in moonlight (you will ruin your eyesight, sir elf).<br/>
The dwarven settlement they arrived to wasn’t anything magnificent, just a small community of miners. The elders, who went out to greet the visitors and kin, looked critically over the company, and one of them addressed Vidur:<br/>
‘Hail, Vidur, son of Vidan. We are glad to welcome you and your kin back to the halls under the Blue Mountains; but who are the strangers you have brought to our threshold?’<br/>
The ginger-haired dwarf bowed his head and gestured at the elven company:<br/>
‘If you please; this is Celebrimbor son of Curufin, son of Feanor, we have been travelling under his protection; these are Master Calapilin from Lindon, servant of Ereinion Gil-Galad, the High King of the Noldor, and Elrond Peredhel son of Earendil, kin to the King. They are carrying the words of friendship from their Sire’.<br/>
All three courteously inclined their heads, hands over hearts.<br/>
‘Long it has been since the last time elves walked our halls,’ – the elder addressed Calapilin. ‘Your kind never come for no reason, and when you come, you bring either commotion, or distress’.<br/>
‘My last visit here, Grim, son of Mim, was indeed a hundred years ago’, - the Teleri responded. ‘I found you in dire need and grief, your home swept from the face of Arda and what remained buried under the waters of Belegaer. My King provided you with help and granted his friendship to you, if you remember. We are here to confirm good neighborly relations and offer further cooperation’.<br/>
‘Time flows differently for your kind, Master Calapilin. Then, maybe, we should receive you and listen to the words you and your companions have carried to us’- the elder gestured to the ornate gates leading into a wide tunnel.<br/>
The meeting took place the following day in the spacious hall usually used by the elders for council and court. The elves and dwarves were sitting on stone benches arranged in two semi-circles facing each other. Calapilin explained their purposes and conditions of the treaties, while Elrond was mostly listening and studying the dwarves. He sensed the tension and the restrained resentment in the manner the elders were listening and talking to his companion and wondered what apart from the long-standing animosity could be lying beneath this particular situation. Having been the King’s aid and confidant in many matters for more than a yen now, he couldn’t recall anything of note about Calapilin’s last visit here. Providing help and friendly relations was Ereinion’s natural goodwill gesture after miners from Lindon went to explore what was left of the Blue Mountains and discovered that not all dwarves had fled to Khazad Dum when their homes in Nogrod and Belegost were lost to the sea.<br/>
‘As I have noted earlier, Master Calapilin, your kind never come without a purpose. What are you seeking here apart from concluding the treaty? Why have you brought such noble companions this time? Or has your King started to apprehend troubles after he learned that our kin was returning home? When did we become noticeable enough to give up ignorance?’<br/>
The dwarf’s hostile rhetoric gave Calapilin a pause, and Elrond turned to speak. The Teleri went pale, well remembering in which exactly ‘shameful words’ Elu Thingol send dwarves out of Doriath, and at a loss at the number of possible ‘understandable local idiomatic expressions’ this scion of his King of old could come up with.<br/>
‘I sense your people are holding grudges against our King, Grim, son of Mim’, - started Peredhel in a low but confident voice. Celebrimbor and Calapilin glared at him. He glared back and turned to the dwarf. ‘Not a word, not a note has he received from you. What actions have you been expecting from him all these years?’<br/>
‘Nor have we from him!’ – replied Grim, spreading his hands in exasperation.<br/>
‘He well understands how your people value your privacy, so keeps his hands clean. Had you let him know you had been in need of assistance, he would have willingly provided it’, - Elrond parried quietly. Calapilin exhaled, mentally yielding hearty thanks to Valar for granting prudence to this one.<br/>
‘You sound thoroughly enlightened upon what your King does and thinks, Elrond son of Earendil’, - the dwarf narrowed his eyes. ‘Tell us, has he been receiving any disturbing tidings from your miners working in the north?’<br/>
Peredhel swept keen glistering eyes over the dwarf. Grim noted he didn’t like being studied thusly, but gave no sign.<br/>
‘His correspondence goes through my hands, and I sit in his council, so take my word: no’, - came the confident reply, then Elrond turned to Celebrimbor. ‘Have you heard anything of this?’<br/>
‘Neither have I,’ – Celebrimbor threw up his hands and turned to Grim. ‘Reveal what you know’.<br/>
The dwarf looked from Elrond to Celebrimbor and then to his kin.<br/>
‘Tell them’, - several dwarfs nodded to him. Grim smoothed his ginger beard as if in thought where to start.<br/>
‘It began ten and two summers ago, when we discovered old tunnels under this mountain. The parties we sent to explore their condition and where they lead did not return, and since then all miners who walked that direction in search for them went missing. We closed those tunnels, but still hope to find out what happened to our brothers.’ He paused, then added: ‘This is one of the reasons we invited our kin to return here’.<br/>
The elves exchanged concerned looks. All of them new better than to prod for other reasons.<br/>
‘And why did you, Celebrimbor, son of Curufin, son of Feanor came here?’ – another elder suddenly asked. None of us believe that someone like you would come as a mere guard to our kin’.<br/>
Calapilin and Elrond turned to the smith. The Lord met Elrond’s gaze and turned to Narvi. The dwarf nodded.<br/>
‘You are right. Neither have I come as a mere guard, nor have I come here empty-handed’.<br/>
The elders turned to each other to exchange glances and murmurs. Grim raised his hand at them: ‘Let the elf speak’. Celebrimbor smirked.<br/>
‘During one of my wanderings east after the war, I discovered remains of your kin, killed by orks or goblins in the wilderness. I understand those were refugees travelling to Khazad Dum with what they could take from home. The foul creatures took armour and gold, but what I found on the site seemed to me more valuable, and my friend Narvi agreed with me.’<br/>
Commotion swept through the room. The elf-lord got up and turned around with a piece of parchment in such bad condition, it was almost falling apart.<br/>
‘What is it?’ – Grim demanded.<br/>
‘I understand now it will help you to explore those tunnels, for it is an old map of this area’.<br/>
The dwarves sprang to their legs. Calapilin moved to hold Elrond in place.<br/>
‘Why should we share it with you?!’ – cried Grim. ‘It belongs to our people!’<br/>
‘So it does,’ – Celebrimbor uttered. ‘But the knowledge how to use it belongs to mine’.<br/>
‘How do you mean?’ – demanded the elders.<br/>
‘The notes on the map are made in Quenya’ – announced elf-lord. The dwarves sobered and started sitting down, exchanging exasperated glares.<br/>
‘Yet, we might share the knowledge with you, if you agree to cooperate,’ – he added.<br/>
‘Why do you think the map can still be useful?’ – Grim demanded. ‘The mountains have changed a lot, many things are lost now’.<br/>
‘There is a spring marked on the map as The Fontal Waters, a hint to its possible proprieties,’- Celebrimbor came up to Narvi and gave the map to him, then turned back to the gathering. ‘What’s more, the map was found in a severely damaged case, yet we managed to discover an inscription on the inner side of the cover. It reads as follows:<br/>
‘When juice from fallen head will fall<br/>
To fill the broken cup below,<br/>
Behold the darkness moonlight thaw;<br/>
The time, undone, will cure the flaw’.<br/>
All people present exchanged puzzled looks.<br/>
‘And what does that mean?’ – asked Grim. ‘What can be restored and how can it be done?’<br/>
‘At the moment we can only speculate,’ – Narvi intervened. ‘But we recon on discovering more information on the spot, if we find it. On condition that the verse is attached to the local geography, there should be some clues, although the destruction of Beleriand completely changed the face and the guts of the mountains’.<br/>
Elrond, listening to him, curved the long fingers around his chin.<br/>
‘Juice from fallen head… That can refer to Mount Dolmed, which used to be known as ‘Wet Head’ due to constant rains pouring over it before it was demolished by the earthquake. The verse hints that even if the spring is lost, it can be refilled somehow, as I can conclude from the reference to ‘the broken cup below’. Yet, what could the last two lines mean?’<br/>
All heads turned, and confused murmurs swept across the room.<br/>
‘Frankly speaking, I was going to ask you about it’ – Celebrimbor grinned. ‘You are the one with a passion for languages and lore; give it a fresh look: could it be Narvi and I lost sight of minor details which usually play major roles?’<br/>
‘You think too highly of me, cousin,’ – saying Elrond was stunned was next to saying nothing. ‘But I will assist you all I can’.<br/>
‘We cannot linger here, Elrond’, - Calapilin intervened, making both Peredhel and Celebrimbor turn to him. ‘The King expects that we return no later than the Midsummer Day’.<br/>
‘Since what time have your kind taken up haste?’ – Grim inquired. ‘If your king seeks to conclude these treaties, he will wait’.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Vidur and Grim - names borrowed from Poetic Edda. 'Son of Vidan' is the product of my imagination.<br/>* Yen - a unit of time used by Elves (144 solar years).<br/>* 'Shameful words' Thingol used is a direct quote from Quenta Silmarillon: 'And standing tall and proud among them he bade them with shameful words be gone unrequited out of Doriath.' [Ch 22, Of the Ruin of Doriath].</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Calapilin does not appove of Celebrimbor's endeavor, Anoriel is on the verge of killing two dwarven maidens, Nis shares a secret.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next several days were spent in Nis’ kin’s halls over the books, scrolls and maps the community could provide. The maps drawn by elves and dwarves turned out to be different: the first claimed that Mount Dolmed was destroyed and perished in the sea; the second affirmed that it still existed, but was ruined and shifted northwards when the chain of The Blue Mountains went apart. Nor did the local lore provide any clues to the mystery, except for the commonly known fact that Mount Dolmed was the place where the fathers of dwarven tribes of Firebeards and Broadbeams awoke at the beginning of their history, so Narvi and Celebrimbor decided to make an attempt in exploring the ancient tunnels.<br/>
Master Calapilin was sitting in a chair with a thunderous expression on his face. If his ankle hadn’t still been ailing him, he would have been pacing the room, but at the moment he was satisfied with clutching the armrests.<br/>
‘Lord Celebrimbor, you are free to seek any way to meet your doom all you desire, yet I cannot permit you to sway Peredhel into joining you’.<br/>
‘By which you mean the King will have your head if any harm befalls Elrond?’ – Celebrimbor scoffed. The diplomat was about to treat him with a suitable retort, when their attention was stolen by the commotion in the hallway.<br/>
‘What have you done, obscure creatures?!’ – Anoriel’s deep voice was laced with sheer anger, and Calapilin looked at Celebrimbor in dismay, hoping the smith was able to stop her should the shieldmaiden burst into slaughter. The Lord squared his shoulders as if he was going into a battle and moved to eliminate whatever misadventure was about to break out.<br/>
The scene he beheld in the hallway was one of those which are usually described as epic. Anoriel, all fury and bloodlust, was looming over two scared dwarf-maidens, who looked small and helpless in front of her towering form. Narvi and Vidur emerged from the outer halls, and stood in the doorway, arms folded across the chests. Celebrimbor carefully intervened:<br/>
‘What have they done to upset you so, Captain?’<br/>
‘To upset me?!’ – she turned to him, grey eyes ablaze. ‘They did something to sir Elerondo, I know not what! Young sir is in such a predicament he cannot even answer my calls!’<br/>
Celebrimbor stately crossed the hallway and knocked on Elrond’s door.<br/>
‘AAAACHOOOO!’<br/>
The smith looked at Anoriel and the dwarves in sheer disbelief, than back at the door.<br/>
‘The King will have my head for this,’- the shieldmaiden growled. One of Nis’ maidens came running with a spare key and shakily unlocked the door. The elves rushed to Peredhel, who was sitting on the floor, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, pressing another towel to his face and sneezing wildly.<br/>
‘Get a healer!’ – called Celebrimbor back into the door.<br/>
‘What can I do for you, young sir?’ –Anoriel kneeled beside her charge, hands hovering over his head and shoulders.<br/>
‘Get… - ACHOO – this’ – Elrond managed to point at the heap of clothes lying on the floor, - ‘Out.. – ACHOO – of here! – ACHOO!’<br/>
Celebrimbor seized the garments and threw them to the maiden who caught the crumpled ball and hurried away. Several minutes later, the healer, a grim-looking wide dwarf, appeared and took the picture in.<br/>
‘Take him to the bathing chamber!’ – he barked to Anoriel and Celebrimbor, who lifted resisting Peredhel up and half-carried him away. The healer followed them, taking off his satchel and eliciting a small labelled bag. The other maiden came with a bowl of water, and he poured some salt into it. The dwarf entered the bathroom with the maiden in his tow:<br/>
‘You need to rinse your nose with salt solution. Are you going to cooperate, elf?’<br/>
‘Leave me… ACHOO –be! ACHOO – It… ACHOO – will pass!’<br/>
‘Hold him still’ – said the healer.<br/>
‘No! – ACHOO - AI!!<br/>
Some time and a lot of cursing and struggling later, disheveled and exasperated Elrond was sitting in a chair, wrapped in a dressing gown and reluctantly sipping hot chamomile tea, invigilated by Anoriel and the dwarven healer. The culprits of the turmoil were standing in front of irate Celebrimbor and amused Vidur.<br/>
‘We were not aware of his sensitivity to smells!’- said one of Nis’ maidens defensively. The other one was on the verge of bursting into tears. - ‘We just thought we will please him if we have his shirts rinsed with lemongrass oil. Do not elves use it, too?’<br/>
‘Not in the lethal quotients!’ – growled Elrond, giving the cup to sullen Anoriel. – You should have checked with me ere you got it done’.<br/>
‘I have never imagined elves are such vincible creatures’ – smirked the dwarven healer. The elves bestowed glares of various degrees of menace on him. The dwarf bid Elrond good health and hurriedly bowed out.<br/>
The maidens expressed their profound apologies to Peredhel, and he relented at their sincere remorse. When the dwarves left, Celebrimbor turned to him:<br/>
‘How are you feeling, little cousin?’<br/>
‘Never call a dwarven healer to me again, Telpё,’ – Elrond sank into the pillow behind his back, long digits tiredly rubbing temples. – ‘Next time just let me pass away with dignity. At one moment I thought I saw Namo, roaring with laughter and telling my name would crown the chart of the most ridiculous deaths among the princes of both Houses of Finwё and Elwё.’<br/>
Celebrimbor and Anoriel glared at him.<br/>
‘Elerondo!’<br/>
‘Young sir!’<br/>
It took enough time and crossing of swords (in a figurative sense) before the matters where finally settled and Calapilin, not without a heavy heart, eventually agreed to let Elrond join Celebrimbor and Narvi in their endeavor. The company included several dwarves, among them Vidur, Narvi and Frar, one of the local folk, Anoriel insisted on joining them, taking some of the guards.<br/>
On the day before the party’s departure, Nis asked Elrond to visit her. She was watching Peredhel sitting in her parlour with the sleeping baby in his arms.<br/>
‘You will make a good father one day,’ – she smiled warmly, enjoying the much-needed silence.<br/>
‘Though you summoned me for a different talk,’ – he adjusted the blanket in which the baby was wrapped, and looked her in the eye. She nodded.<br/>
‘I wanted to tell you about a dream I had a year ago in the Halls under the Misty Mountains. I saw an elven enchanter summoning a white bulk under full moon. I saw a rushing waterfall and a glossy lake full of shiny gems. And I heard the words: ‘Thus under the first full moon of summer the ruined shall be restored’. The day I met you…’ – she looked at him and blushed, averting her eyes – ‘I realized it was you I had seen’.<br/>
Elrond handed the sleeping baby over to her and got up from his seat.<br/>
‘Dreams are uncertain councilors. One never can say whether what you see is a reflection of the past or a vision of what might or might never happen in future. Yet, I promise to pay heed to what you imparted.’<br/>
Nis also got up and went to see him off. Before they bade each other farewell, she gave him a mischievous smile and uttered: ‘Bear no grudge against my maidens, sir Elrond. They revere you’.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>* Tolkien scholars are ambivalent about the doom of Mount Dolmed: some think it perished, the others think it continued to exist in some formafter the destruction of Beleriand. I'm merely playing on this situation for the sake of the plot and do not claime to be the sole possessor of the truth.<br/>* Frar - the name is borrowed from poetic Edda.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Old tunnels are not the safiest place to explore, are they?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Artanaro - Gil-Galad's name in Quenya<br/>Cirth - runic script first invented by the Elves and later adopted by the Dwarves<br/>Thuringwethil - a femail Maya who surved Sauron and could turn into a giant bat. Is thought to have been slain by Lutien or  Huan during their quest for freeing Beren from Sauron's capture.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Exploring the old tunnels was an utterly tedious assignment: while the miners were checking the safety of the walls and ceilings ahead, the rest of the party had nothing to do, but to wait. Dwarves were accustomed to such activities, and therefore did not mind the situation at all; the elves were missing open spaces, fresh air and light of the sun, the moon and the stars, yet none complained about the whereabouts. The waiting hours were spent over the maps, discussions of the directions to move on in, conversations or in watchful rest. The further they progressed, the lighter the dwarves’ spirits became, as it seemed that the map found by Celebrimbor was still of use, and some of the tunnels were passable.<br/>
‘All minor settlements are always connected with major ones with a network of tunnels’, - Vidur explained to the elves. ‘It looks like we will be lucky enough to reach the glorious halls of Belegost sooner or later’.<br/>
‘It is said to have perished in the destruction of Beleriand, is it not?’, - asked Elrond.<br/>
‘It seems your scouts and miners did not bother to thoroughly explore the guts of the mountains’ – smirked the dwarf. ‘The tunnels are still of use’.<br/>
Peredhel looked at Celebrimbor, who seemed to be more amused by the dwarves’ enthusiasm then the whole elven party taken together; his premonition persistently refused to go away, so he tried to make an appeal to reason (which taught him to know better than to use reason to stop a company of determined dwarves in future, whatever they would be determined to do, especially if they would be determined to find and return what once belonged to them).<br/>
‘Did not your elders claim they had sent parties to explore the tunnels, yet none returned? Could they have encountered something that caused their perish? And could not it be that the same tribulation is awaiting for us?’ – Peredhel turned to his cousin. ‘What is it we are after? The signs have not become any clearer, while I can perceive the presence of hidden peril around’.<br/>
‘So can I’, - echoed Celebrimbor. – ‘The mountains can be destroyed, but not abandoned. I hear evil creatures sought shelter in their depths after the fall of Beleriand’.<br/>
‘We have encountered none since the beginning of this expedition, so let us hope they will keep avoiding meeting us, - Vidur smirked and winked at his brethren who burst into titters of amusement. Anoriel gave them a grim look from where she was sitting cross-legged with a sword on her lap.<br/>
On the sixth day, they came across an entrance to a spacious hall, a ruined reminder of the glory of old. In the past, it could have been a central part of a city, full of light and chatter, a fountain could have been warbling there, and dwarven folk would have been staidly going about on their businesses amidst intricately carved columns. At that moment, though, the place was abandoned, and the floor was covered with fragments of ruined decorations of once vaulted ceiling.  The steps echoed in the darkness the company’s lanterns could not fully chase away. They laid out the maps to identify the spot, and soon an excited cry ‘Belegost!’ came from the dwarves. The miners scattered around the place to explore it, and some time later they returned with satchels and blankets abandoned by another party.<br/>
‘Who would leave blankets and supplies in the middle of their quest by good will?’- Vidur groped for answers. - ‘Have you noticed anything unusual around? Any traces of the kin?’<br/>
‘Nothing that would catch an eye,’- the miners shrugged.<br/>
While the members of the company were discussing the direction to move in and the chances to catch up with the kin, another miner came back running and with a happy smile announced that he thought he had seen a light in the relatively untouched side halls.<br/>
The dwarves sprang on their feet and hurried to see who was there. Elrond and Celebrimbor followed them, telling their guards to stay put. Anoriel opened her moth to rise an objection, but Elrond made a dismissive gesture:<br/>
‘It is safer to have you covering our backs’.<br/>
‘As you command, young sir’, - she tilted her head with a hand over the heart, and gave the guards the sign to wait.<br/>
The rest of the party followed the excited miner to see what he had discovered. Indeed, there was a warm glow of a fire on the walls in a side hall and hushed murmur of voices.<br/>
‘Brethren, we found them’ – cried the miner, when Peredhel put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from rushing in. Inside the hall, there were several dwarves sitting around a makeshift hearth, sharing a meal. The company cheered, but his premonition heightened when he noticed the way the fire was glowing without smoke, the way the smiles were frozen on the faces, the repetitive welcoming gestures they were making, and the way their forms left no shadows on the walls...<br/>
‘Brothers!’<br/>
‘Halt! Tis a catch!’ – warned Elrond, but the miner brushed his hand off and ran to meet the kin with joyous cry, which trailed off, when a shadow fell from the darkness under the vault of the ceiling. The cry turned into a wrenching screech, and the cave went dark, the lamps they carried went out. Rustling sound announced the arrival of creatures which the elves could see in the darkness as bat-like shadows rushing into attack. The dwarves shrank back in awe as two glowing with white light forms met the monsters with shining swords, voices rose in an ancient song warding off the creatures of darkness. The bats hissed at the elves, yet none dared to attack.<br/>
Hideous mocking voice came from the bowels of the caves:<br/>
‘What a lark, sisters! Feast! Feast!’<br/>
A giant bat-like shadow emerged flying from the dark crevice in the wall right under the ceiling, long fangs and claws ready to shred. Before anyone could think or move, Peredhel stood in its way, eyes blazing with white light, voice ringing with power:<br/>
‘Back into the abyss, Thuringwethil’s breed! There is no prey here for you! Be gone!’<br/>
The monstrous bat hissed at him, descended to attack, and was overthrown with a blow enforced with pure intention to end its existence. A wave of white light washed over the hall. ‘Spell-weaver, spell-weaver’ – the creatures screeched pelting away into the depths of the caves. Celebrimbor was the first to get over the bewilderment, and rushed to catch his swooning cousin.<br/>
‘Stay with me’ – he bade, briskly tapping Peredhel on the cheeks. The rest of the company recovered from the dread and lit the lanterns again. Elrond winced and focused on the smith’s worried face.<br/>
‘It’s nothing, Telpё.’<br/>
‘As you say, o Spell-weaver, Terror to Thuringwethil’s breed’ – Celebrimbor smiled with relief and helped Peredhel to sit up, holding out a flask with cordial for him. Elrond swigged a big gulp and gave the flask back with a sigh.<br/>
‘Do you need any further assistance, little cousin?’ – the smith inquired tentatively.<br/>
‘I am quite well, thank you’.<br/>
The sound of running feet announced the arrival of Anoriel and the guards. The Captain stopped in the doorway, wrathfully looked around, turned to the smith and uttered:<br/>
‘Lord Telpёrinquar, I am still hoping to get my young sir back to King Artanaro’s halls in one piece, if you please.’<br/>
Elrond and Celebrimbor looked at each other and then down like naughty children caught red-handed. The next moment a mournful cry made them turn to the dwarves who found their comrade.<br/>
‘Sir Elrond!’ – Vidur called; relieved that the dwarf’s call made Anoriel lift her glare from him, Peredhel got up and went to see how he could help. He knelt at the prone body and frowned at the sight of laceration the dwarf had received to his throat.<br/>
‘Sir Elrond, will you…’ – Vidur started, but Peredhel shook his head.<br/>
‘Alas, I cannot rise the dead’, - he said quietly.<br/>
The dwarves went quiet.<br/>
‘What about those creatures? What were they? Vampires?’ – Narvi turned to Celebrimbor.<br/>
‘Yes, the ones that used to serve the Enemy and found shelter here after the fall of their master,’- the smith replied. – ‘They are capable of weaving illusions like the one we all saw to lure their prey. We are blessed to have escaped with only one victim.’<br/>
‘Have you scathed them?’ – Vidur turned to Elrond.<br/>
‘No, I do not consider so; we have merely banished them from here. I deem they were the culprits of your kin’s losses,’- he looked square in the dwarf’s eyes, making him take a step back.<br/>
Indeed, to the dwarves’ utter horror and grief, searching the place revealed several desiccated corpses of dwarves recognized as brothers, cousins or friends by the local folk. While the dwarven company were lamenting and preparing the dead bodies for funeral, Elrond and Celebrimbor walked round the hall, sealing the passages with the runes and spells protecting from spirits of darkness.<br/>
‘Take a look at this,’ – Narvi came up to Celebrimbor with a piece of parchment in his hand. – ‘We found it on one of the bodies’. Celebrimbor reached out for it and looked over with a frown. Then he rose his glance at Elrond and turned the parchment so that his cousin could see it. There was a quick sketch of the place showing the remaining and totally ruined or impassible halls and passages around the place and marking the possible route to the western gates of the city. Next to it, there was a rough sketch of a buck under full moon and a quick note in Cirth:<br/>
‘The first full moon of summer must meet the sun ere the tide turns back’.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The bits of the maze get a bit clearer, but old dwarven ruins are still not the safest place to be.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The company spent several days exploring the ruins of Belegost. Most of the halls collapsed or were blocked up by fallen rocks. Scarcely something was left of the glorious city of old. The dwarves were crestfallen and silent. Everyone wanted to get as far as they could from the place where they had been attacked by vampires and where they had had to bury their kin. When even the strongest started stumbling out of sheer exhaustion, Elrond asked Vidur if it was time to find a place for a camp. The leader glowered over his people and announced a rest halt.<br/>
They chose a safe niche a short way out of their main route for the encampment. The meal was made and dealt out in grim silence. The dwarves’ low spirits eventually started affecting usually serene and sanguine elves.<br/>
‘Not all warriors fall slain in battles; some fall deceived by treacherous spells of the Enemy and his servants, who are able to read many minds, elicit the innermost thoughts and hopes, corrupt them and make their victims seek demise’, - said the smith in a low voice.<br/>
Elrond, sitting next to him, started the first verse of an old dwarven song about the fall of Lord Azaghal learned from Maedhros long ago, ere his cousin’s choice fell upon far worse options (these included lays about misadventures of his own numerous kinspeople, and he was not looking forward to singing any of them). To his relief, soon many voices joined him, and he weaved the vision of the charred battlefield where the dwarven King of old, surpassing death in the last effort, made awful Glaurung the dragon flee by stubbing the beast in the belly and the funeral procession of his kin, carrying their Lord’s body away with a dirge so fearsome, that none of the enemies dared stand in their way.<br/>
When the song ended, many averted their glances and furtively dabbed unbidden tears. The visions created by Elrond’s art and his skillful singing reminded them of their great ancestors and put fresh heart into them.<br/>
‘Where did you learn the lay, lad?’ – asked Frar, the oldest of all dwarves in the company, and, therefore, considered the wisest.<br/>
‘My foster father’s brother greatly respected your people; he taught me your language and your history, Master Frar. Speaking of which, what do you think about the sketch on the map we found?’ – Peredhel swiftly changed the subject of the conversation lest the dwarves started asking more questions about his family. - ‘Is there any chance the sketch is a clue to our mystery?’<br/>
The dwarf frowned at him, sleeking his long grey beard. The others started giving the elder encouraging glances, for under the pressure of their loss and the terror of what might have happened if Elrond hadn’t frightened the vampires off, none had been in the mood of discussing such matters. Now, when the spirits lit up, a good conversation was welcome.<br/>
‘The Western Gates of Belegost used to open onto the Dwarf-Road in East Beleriand. The map shows the way out of the city, and the sketch shows the carving that adorned the Gates. There is a legend among the local folk that in the forests which used to cover the slopes of these mountains there lived a spirit who protected this land’ – said Frar. – ‘On full moon nights, hunters saw him in a shape of a glowing white bulk roaming the forests. They believed, that in the place where it stamped its hoof one could later find a spring of clear water. However, there is nothing in our lore that speaks of it being somehow linked to the legend about the Fontal Waters’.<br/>
‘If Mount Dolmed still exists, we might find the fountain or what remains of it. Yet, what then?’ – asked Vidur.<br/>
‘Hallowed waters are rear in Arda Marred. If the fountain still exists, or can be restored, its water might be turned into the essence used in jewelmaking’ – Celebrimbor responded, and the dwarves immediately perked up.<br/>
‘Are you saying you can use the sacred water to actually make jewels?’ – Vidur enquired.<br/>
‘Yes,’ – the smith replied – ‘Yet, you need to be of a great knowledge and skill to use it. I personally know only two of my kind who could do it.<br/>
‘Your … grandfather and Enerdhil, the Master Jewelsmith of Gondolin?’ – Elrond suggested.<br/>
‘Aye, little cousin. And I learned from both. Enerdhil had made many hollow attempts before he formed Elessar, the greatest of his creations, using the essence he made of waters from the fountains of Amon Gwareth, hollowed by Ulmo himself, and the sunlight he captured. Green it was like new grass in spring, and if light passed through it and fell upon weary and broken creatures and things, they became whole and healed again. King Turgon’s daughter, your grandmother, wore it upon her breast, and her beauty shone like the sun. She than passed the gem on to your father, and he took it with him into the Undying Lands. Nothing like it has ever been made on these shores, and I wish to try and make one more.’<br/>
‘Than let us go through the clues on our hands again and try to put them together,’ - Narvi offered. If we intend to find whatever remains of Mount Dolmed, we need to seek the Western Gates. Yet, if we find what we are looking for, what then? What tide is mentioned in the note on the map? And what do the words ‘the first full moon of summer must meet the sun’ refer to?<br/>
‘I deem the line refers to the time when the sun and the astronomically full moon move to the point where they are opposite each other on the western and the eastern horizon, - interfered Elrond. – It is the moment of perfect balance of powers, but I do not see how one can cause the time go back. I have never heard it is possible. Perhaps, we should not take the words in their literate meaning’.<br/>
Many more hours passed in conversation and recollections of the pieces of lore concerning the Fontal Waters and jewelmaking. Peredhel listened to his companions, scanning the notes he had made in Nis’s halls until his own weariness called him to a better place and a happier time.<br/>
A stately elven lady and a lively young ellon were walking under the forest canopy in silence, the shadowy dark head leaning to the shining gold one, sea breeze playing with long tresses and silver and white mantles, bare feet gliding in thick grass, blue and grey glances meeting from time to time as they were speaking without the use of words. The elleth stopped, picked something up from the ground, and turned to hand it over to the youth with great care, as if it was a precious and a fragile thing. The ellon opened his palm and received a cold and wet acorn. He gave her a questioning look.<br/>
‘As I have told you, child, the art of healing spreads much farther than mending fea and hroa. One with your power is capable of restoring life itself’.<br/>
‘My Lady, you are not talking about returning fea to hroa once they parted, are you?’<br/>
She smiled at him, shaking her head.<br/>
‘No, child. Tis beyond the powers of Eldar. I am talking about mending the flow of the music of life where it loses or is caused to lose its harmony. When you intend to heal a body and a soul, you listen to and reform the song of the being you are tending; the very same way you listen to the song of a river, a forest, a meadow and intend to make it go swifter or slower. Take this acorn. Can you make it sprout?’<br/>
He glanced at her, than covered the acorn with the other hand. Focusing his intention, he elicited a soft tune of dormant life in his hands and joined it, making it sound louder, faster. He felt something cold moving between his locked palms, and instinctively threw it away.<br/>
‘Be gentle, child’, - she said calmly.<br/>
Her voice made the ellon come to himself; he gave the lady an ashamed look and leaned forward to find the acorn. His face lit up with a smile when he saw it lying in thick grass broken by a tiny green seedling. He carefully picked it up, examining closely.<br/>
‘Is it possible to make it grow back, My Lady?’<br/>
Her laughter rang through the wood.<br/>
‘Is it possible to make a baby grow back once you have delivered a woman of a child?’<br/>
The young ellon cast down his glance and blushed to the very tips of his pointed ears.<br/>
She touched his chin, making him lift up his head and look into her benevolently smiling face.<br/>
‘A healer has to know how to deal with all ways of mending things, remember it, child. Now, let us find a becoming place for this new life to grow and flow in peace’.<br/>
He nodded, and they continued their stroll.<br/>
Elrond woke up with a jolt, realizing he had dropped the scroll he had been reading. The pleasant memory of the time spent studying with Lady Galadriel in her small realm in Harlindon waned away, leaving yearn for fresh air and light in its wake.<br/>
‘Tis easy to lose the track of time underground, little cousin’, - laughed Celebrimbor.<br/>
‘Why did you let me oversleep? And where is everyone?’<br/>
‘The dwarves went to check the passages to the Western Gates, our guards are checking the perimeter. I let you sleep because you have been pushing yourself too hard recently. What’s more, how heartless must one be to wake up a child smiling in sleep? – teased the smith and dexterously caught the scroll flying right into his grinning face. – ‘May I ask what Irmo did to make this fierce warrior so happy?’<br/>
‘He let him walk to a far better place’, - retorted Peredhel.<br/>
‘In a way more pleasant company?’<br/>
‘Absolutely right’.<br/>
‘Beware her, Ellerondo’, - the smith suddenly got solemn. – ‘She wins hearts as easily as manipulates their owners. Moreover, as the King’s envoy you must learn to better shield your thoughts and emotions’, – he added with a smirk.<br/>
Peredhel looked him in the eye, and unwittingly perceived a promise to the Lady made with soreness and love in the smith’s heart. Celebrimbor averted his glance in tardy realization.<br/>
‘Tis will not go anywhere, rest assured, cousin’, - Elrond offered the only consolation he could. – ‘But what does this endeavor have to do with Lady Galadriel?’<br/>
‘I have never doubted your deep sincerity, little one; yet never have I intended to load you with my unrequired feeling to Artanis,’ - he fidgeted with the scroll, then pointedly put it down and looked at Elrond. – ‘She payed me a visit about a sun-round ago and asked me to mend the wedding ring I had made for her. The flaw was not grave, and I invited her to join me in the forge. I soon finished the work, and she put the ring back on her digit, yet looked troubled. I asked what was ailing her, and she revealed her concerns that no matter how hard she tries to take better care about the land she loves, it keeps fading and losing its beauty. She lamented the falling leaves and the weathering flowers and asked me if I could help her by a deed or advice. I could not turn her down, for she has always been the one and only in my heart and I love her dearly. Thus I started the search for the way to console her.’<br/>
‘And your findings took you here’.<br/>
‘I will tell you more. When I showed her the map, she gave me her blessing, telling to find you on the way and enlist your support’.<br/>
Knowing Galadriel, Elrond was not surprised at all. He had long ago come to terms with the fact that she was capable of foreseeing almost everything. How she could do it so accurately was another matter, and Peredhel suspected that her gift of foresight was in a large measure backed up by her vast life experience and ability to read people’s minds rather than anything else. During his time under her tuition, he had to learn to bring down the frequent lifts of pique as he often misinterpreted his own visions. Ereinion’s court in Mithlond still remembered the night when his young kinsman, who was supposed to be safely apprenticed to the Lady in Harlindon, burst into the High King’s halls after three days of wild riding in a snowstorm with ice on his coat and icicles in his unkempt hair and cried in relief when he found everyone alive and well. When the commotion settled down, and the hapless Peredhel was warmed and dried, he explained that he had had a vision of a huge dark wave covering the city. When the tale reached Galadriel, she laughed and noted that youth was a flaw which cured itself as time passed. Millennia later, when in the aftermath of the downfall of Númenor they would have to organize evacuation of residents from the coastal settlements, reinforce the heavens and swing the ships up the River Lune in haste, Elrond would be too stricken with ire and grief to ever throw it back at her, even when they would stand on equal ground.<br/>
‘Oh, now I see what eventually convinced Master Calapilin to let me join you’, - Peredhel gave the smith a wry smile at the image of his supervisor’s face when the Lord leaned to his ear to offer the last resort. Celebrimbor grinned back, but immediately went serious, as thundering rattle rumbled through the halls. The elves sprung to their feet.<br/>
‘My Lord!’ – one of Celebrimbor’s guards came running to deliver the tidings. – ‘The passage on the right has collapsed!’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>* hroa - body (Quenya)<br/>* fea - soul (Quenya)<br/>* The history of Elessar, the legendary jewel which belonged to Idril, Turgon's daughter, is intriguingly unclear. There is a version that Idril passed it on to Earendil and he took it to the West, then Gendalf later brought it back to the Middle Earth and handed it over to Galadriel, and she, in turn, gave it to Celebrian, who passed it on to Arwen. On the other hand, in "The History of Galadriel and Celeborn" (Unfinished Tales) you can read that Galadriel asked Celebrimbor to make the gem for her. I prefer to think that there were two stones, one made by Enerdhil, another created by Feanor's grandson.<br/>* The alchemy of creating magic jewels mentioned in this chapter is only my imagination. Do not try this at home.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The futher they go, the darker it gets.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Darkness was the first thing Vidur perceived when he came to himself. It was not the familiar darkness of a mine when lanterns accidentally went out on occasion. It was different. It was an absolute inverse to light. It felt fatal, final. Tales said that the Enemy was powerful enough to change the world to his desires and populate it with all sorts of creatures of his own design, yet what they kept silent about was that at the lack of imagination he only managed to produce opposites to the things he already knew. Therefore, if there were creatures who needed light to live, there were the ones who needed darkness.<br/>‘Is this the way death feels?’ – he asked himself, but soon changed his mind. He could think, he was starting to become aware of the fact that at some point he had been hit on the head, as his nape was pulsing with pain, which meant he was still alive. Scattered pieces of memories of a wild race against the rapidly extending quere in the ceiling of the tunnel were surfacing from the depths of his fogged consciousness. However, his next discovery was truly startling: he could not move a single limb. The body felt numb.<br/>‘Mistress will not be pleased if she finds we have had our way,’ – hissed a nasty voice over him. The reply came after hoarse chuckling.<br/>‘Mistress is so obsessed with revenge for the wound she suffered from that insolent elfling that she cares no more. And I… - the creature inhaled loudly – I am thirsty and weary of goblin blood. I desire this fresh, warm red juice…<br/>There came a sharp hiss and a sound of a slap.<br/>‘Do not dare! You know the order!’<br/>‘Shut up, you two,’ – another hissing voice interfered. ‘Take them to the main hall, everyone will soon get their fill!’<br/>‘What a ridiculous end. At least my poor Nis is with her family,’ – Vidur thought sorrowfully, tears welling up at the images of his beloved wife and the son who he will never hold in his arms, teach his craft and see grow up to manhood. Gnarled clawed hand seized his leg and draw him away, to the outraged hissing and clattering of teeth.<br/>‘How dare you.’ – the creatures screeched indignantly, and several slaps soon grew into the undeniable fight. Driven by fear, Vidur managed to roll over once, twice, and then his tumbling became uncontrollable, carrying him further and further down into impenetrable darkness.<br/>***<br/>The sound of falling rock made Narvi and his group stop and look around. They had moved several miles away from the beginning of the tunnel they were exploring, yet dwarves could find their way underground with superb easiness, and it was not difficult for them to identify where exactly the ceiling collapsed. <br/>‘We must go back to check on the rest of the company,’ – he started, when someone’s hand gripped his hair and touched a blade to his throat. <br/>Put down your picks and go with us, worms – a grating voice ordered. The others were so bewildered and startled that they dropped their tools immediately, and were seized and bound by a group of goblins. The beasts pushed and kicked them for about an hour down the passage into a cave lit up with choking torches and full of foul creatures. When the goblins saw the captured dwarves, they started hooting, brandishing their arms and snapping their teeth in a hideous resemblance of a dance.<br/>The biggest of them, who was sitting on a dais behind a large stone hearth, motioned to the guards to bring the dwarves closer and looked them over with disgust.<br/>‘I hear you have been roaming our caves with the Fair Folk. Is it because your people direly lack women of your own kind?’ – he addressed to Narvi. <br/>The goblins guffawed at what they considered a clever dig. The dwarf looked the chieftain in the eye, and as he was doing so, he suddenly noticed an agile figure swiftly bouncing from ledge to ledge in the smoke under the shadowy dome of the cave, yet made no sign of recognition.<br/>‘I hear envy in your words,’ – he replied coolly. ‘What does it matter to you?’<br/>The goblin puckered up his moth.<br/>‘I envy you not, worm. Will you tell me where those whores of yours are abiding?’<br/>‘Oh, my! Now I sense lust in your words,’ – Narvi gave a sly smirk and turned to wink at his frustrated companions.<br/>‘Speak, or I shall have you all hung above the heath until you get smoked alive!’ – roared the goblins’ chieftain, rose from his seat and came closer to lean and  grab handfuls of the dwarf’s beard and clothes and lifted him easily several feet up. The next moment, however, Narvi fell down, as the giant goblin and the ones holding his companions hit the floor with glowing arrows in their eyes. <br/>Goblins and orks liked making fun of elves when they outnumbered them greatly and were glad to torcher them if they could capture wounded or weakened luckless ones in the safety of their dens and dungeons, but when an open fight with those who wielded coldly glowing weapons was looming upon their horizon, their wit shrank quickly.<br/>‘Elves! Elves!’ The goblins cried in dread, some even shot arrows into the archers above, but they had already altered positions and released their bows again, killing several more.  Disoriented and seized with panic, the goblins began to rush about the cave, knocking down and trampling underfoot their own kin. Luminous figures leapt down from under the ceiling at different points and started relentlessly mowing down the disoriented creatures. Soon it was over, many of the fell beasts lying dead, some of them having escaped into crevices and passages around the cave.<br/>‘Is everyone alive?’ – called Celebrimbor advancing on the shocked dwarves. He freed Narvi, and they wrapped each other in a bear hug, while Elrond and Anoriel were walking among the captives cutting the ropes off their hands. The archers leaped down and scattered around picking up arrows. <br/>‘How did you find us?’ – Narvi asked when Celebrimbor let him go. <br/>‘Blessings be upon our scouts. They spotted the commotion and discovered another tunnel right above the one you were in. We followed you here and arrived at just the right time to appreciate your amiable conversation,’ – the elf replied with a deadpan face.<br/>They all chuckled and shared wry smirks, but very soon everyone sobered.<br/>‘What happened in the hall where we left you?’ – demanded one of the dwarves.<br/>‘The tunnel where Vidur and Frar took their group collapsed. We did not have time to check on them’.<br/>‘We are robust people; we know how to get out of a mine if it collapses. The only reason why a dwarf cannot free himself is because he is dead,’ – Narvi noted grimly.<br/>‘We must get out of this place ere the beasts come back with reinforcements. Let us see if this cave is marked on the map and if there are passages that cross the collapsed one. If we are all lucky, we will find Vidur and Frar’s group’.<br/>They had been searching the tunnels for a free passage in the direction their companions had taken for what felt like eternity, when one of the elves held up a hand gesturing everyone to stop. In several instances, a withered form with drooping shoulders floundered out from the darkness of the tunnel, holding on the wall for support. White hair and beard glowered in the lanterns’ light.<br/>‘Frar!’ – the dwarves surrounded the elder, supporting and comforting, and eased him down on a discarded clock. They all turned to Elrond, who was already heading towards the gathering, stripping off his bloodstained gloves.<br/>‘Please, move aside, he needs space, and give him a flask of water’- asked Peredhel, kneeling over the dwarf. <br/>‘I am not injured,’ – breathed Frar. ‘I am just exhausted’. <br/>He shied away from Elrond’s touch, but gratefully accepted the flask and gulped the water down greedily.<br/>‘What of the others? What befell you? Where are they?’ – the dwarves asked vying with each other. <br/>‘I know not. When I regained my senses, I was alone,’ – came feeble answer.<br/>‘Leave him be, he needs rest,’ – Elrond interfered into the interrogation.<br/>‘We have no time for rest,’ – Celebrimbor objected. ‘The goblins are tracing us. We killed their chieftain’.<br/>‘Then move on swiftly,’ – urged Frar. – The Western Gaits must be near. Go down this passage, there is a spacious hall there, very much like the one that would be near a gate. Leave me.’<br/>‘What are you saying?’ – the dwarves asked in dismay. ‘We will carry you if we must’.<br/>Not listening to the elder’s objections, four of them lifted him up on a clock, and the company hurried on. Somewhere behind them, a large black wolf sniffed the ground, raised its ugly muzzle and howled.</p>
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